


A Long Time

by TheEndOfWinter



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: F/M, figuring out the line between sex and friends, it's just smut, pwp ish?, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEndOfWinter/pseuds/TheEndOfWinter
Summary: Kayano and Nagisa's relationship over the years is... complicated.  But Kayano figures, as long as they do not kiss, they are safe.





	A Long Time

 

Kayano never kisses Nagisa.

Not the first time they entangled, not the second, third, fourth, fifth. If he thinks it's strange he doesn't say anything. Then again, nothing about their relationship is particularly conventional. They keep their friendship on the surface level, they've always been close since middleschool.

They talk about everything, from the weather to remembrance of those that have long left the earth. They sit at cafes and make light of their friends, they walk down roads and discuss the state of Japan.

It's a friendship, nothing more, until it is.

Then it's mute passion, under the covers, gasping, clawing, things that she is shocked Nagisa can do. She's quite sure he is absolutely baffled by what “this” is, Nagisa never seemed the type to engage in sex, he seems bred for the chaste hero type, and initially always looked confused. Willing but confused.

He's a fast learner.

And Kayano knows, he masters his art.

Kayano wonders if he's upset, or if he thinks she's crazy, or- more terrifyingly- he thinks nothing of it. That would certainly destroy her, because even if Kayano does not label what they have, she puts everything she is into them. The touching, the grasping at skin like she's grasping for a lifevest.

Kayano has been in love for a long time, she isn't sure where this love ends and where she begins.

* * *

 

 

It was silly mission, of questionable importance. In fact, Kayano was quite sure that the real reason Karma suggested it was to get Nagisa back in girl clothes for a good chuckle at his expense.

He said there was something important at the all girls highschool, and now that the Class formerly known as Class E were fresh faced college students, Kayano and Nagisa were the only ones baby faced enough that could easily pass. And even with Nagisa's hair cut, he would still easily pass as a girl.

Kayano never Got It, this idea that everyone simply assumed Nagisa was so effeminate that he looked better as a girl. She didn't believe it back in her middleschool days, and not now. Well, she understands he has feminine features, the slim face, the long lashes, the full lips. But to Kayano, Nagisa was a boy, every inch of him.

Her eyes trailed down his slim body.

_Every inch._

God she's bothered by him and he is never the wiser.

It was too early in the school year for the student body to know faces and so no one finds it suspicious when Kayano and Nagisa infiltrate the school, lingering in classrooms between subjects. And when it is time to change for gym the girls unceremoniously undress in front of them.

Poor Nagisa looks flabbergasted at what to do, Kayano almost feels bad if she didn't find it funny.

His eyes dart left, then right, down to the ground, almost like he forgot how to properly see and just wishes he can shut them, as Kayano explains to her “classmates” that Nagisa and she forgot their gym clothes. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nagisa turn into a corner. He's so bad at these situations, even after all that time with Bitch-sensei.

“They're gone Nagisa,” Kayano tells him; he's still in the corner, fiddling with the edges of his skirt.

“O-okay,” his voice cracks like he's still in puberty. He doesn't move.

“Nagisa, this is a perfect opportunity,” she says, “we can search for what we need.”

“I think,” he gulps, “I think I need a second.”

She's concerned now because while Nagisa is normally fretful and nervous, when he's on a job he always acts fluidly. Now he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

She touches his shoulder and turns him to face her, his face is burning red and he looks like a young boy caught doing something wrong; a guilty tilt of his head and a mortified expression. He's angled oddly so she can see his face but he twists to keep his hips out of sight.

“Oh,” Kayano says, when she sees the bulge from behind his skirt. It's noticeable enough that it is difficult to hide.

“I-I mean, I wasn't thinking anything, it just sort of happened,” he stutters, clearly embarrassed. It's endearing, the furious blush on his face, the darting of his blue, blue eyes to anywhere but her face, he his feeble attempts to cover himself with his hands.

Four years is a long time to be in love with someone. Maybe that's why something seizes her; those nights with her hands between her legs, thinking of his face just like this, a pulsating want that never quite went away, all culminated into one moment. She shoos away his hands, stands between his legs, and places her hands on his cheeks.

She never believed he had any drive, that he was just a perfect machine of assassination, but here he is, just a boy as she is a girl.

She leans closer. “We need to do something about this,” she says. “They'll know.” He inhales. He isn't quite catching on what she's getting at. That innocence just makes the room hotter. Her lips brush the edge of his ear and she resists biting it.

“Do you trust me, Nagisa?”

He nods. She lowers one of her hands to his leg, and lets a finger trace quietly down the outer thigh. “You really shouldn't,” she admits, but Nagisa says nothing as her fingers go up the inner thigh, dangerously close to his shame.

He gets it now, right, as her fingers slide up his skirt, disappearing into the cloth. His eyes go wide, in surprise but not disgust. “If you ever want to stop,” she tells him, breathing hot into his skin, “just say so. I will stop. Do you understand?”

He still looks confused but he nods, this undeniable, inexplicable trust of a woman who once lied to him for a better part of a year. He makes her burn.

Her free hand goes to the back of his neck, a finger playing with a lose strand of blue hair, before tightening her grip and gently guiding his forehead on her shoulder.

Then the hand under the skirt reaches past down the elastic of the boxershorts and touches him.

His reaction is to go rigid, she can feel a sharp in take of breath against her shoulder, but he does not ask her to stop so she does not. He's as hot as she is under her fingers, and harder than she thought he would be. She thought he would just be soft everywhere, all the time, minus the sharp angles, like blades meant to kill, like his eyes.

Even when she knew she should act with urgency, she can't help but play a little. Her fingers ghosted his length, from base to tip, feather like touches as she explored. Nagisa was struggling to keep his breathing in check against her. She always liked how restrained Nagisa was, but right now she wanted something more, so she quietly guided him to a desk, and he sat down obediently.

When he is secured, she thinks the garment is too restricting, so she pushes the boxers. Even with the skirt obscuring most of his length, this sudden exposure gets a reaction from Nagisa, his head shoots up and he looks at her with round eyes, shock and confused arousal. She pauses again, but he doesn't ask to stop.

She tightens her grip on him, not so that it would hurt but so he could better feel her presence. He gasps at the reconnection, and closes his eyes. She begins to move, pumping him, and he buries his head into her shoulders again, his fingers grip around the edge of the table as she picks up an obscene pace. His knuckles go white.

She likes it, watching his body squirm, feeling him grow and pulsate around her fingers, listening to the little muffled sounds, she'll dream of this for years. He's completely lost to the sensation now so when she suddenly stops he's left reeling, confused, half completed. He might even be desperate, but he's too polite, too passive to ask for more.

“We can't leave a mess,” Kayano says, surprised by how breathless she sounds. He nods, but still not understanding until Kayano drops to her knees.

“Kaya-”

Her mouth takes him in, and he nearly shoots in the air and topples off the desk, one hand unexpectedly on her head, wrapped up in her newly dyed green hair (she did it for nostalgia's sake). She peeks up and there's an explosion of emotion on his face, but mostly desire, need, the same burning need she's felt for years. This is what he deserves, him finally feeling what she always had.

She moves her tongue flat against him, and he lifts that hand from her head to over his mouth, trying to control the sound. He muffles his groans against it and she swirls her tongue, moves him deeper into her mouth. He's doing his best to remain quiet, his eyes shut tight and his mouth against the back of his own hand to mute his moans and gasps, in chorus with the sounds of sucking.

Soon his hips begin to buck, much to his own horror; he's close she can feel it. She quickens the pace, her head bobbing between his legs.

“Kayano,” he breaks the silence breathlessly, “I'm feeling... something.”

Then he comes, he silences himself again between his fingers, open mouth saying nothing and a look that Kayano will never forget. She swallows all of him, getting every last drop, and lingers for a bit, before standing up, and with a friendly smile she's always given.

He looks winded, confused, but not upset, just as if he's seen something new and mindlowing.

“We need to finish this mission,” she says and he nods, pulling up his boxer shorts.

The blush is gone, the confusion is gone, and they're back to exactly how they were before. It's sad, but it's relieving, and they continue on.

 

* * *

 

 

Nagisa isn't sure when it first started, but after awhile it seems like their relationship was always this way. This close bond, a platonic soul mate, and once every few nights it explodes into something hot, heavy, and secret.

Kayano never kisses him, he is sure that is on purpose. Maybe to show that this is just friendship. That's fine, confusing but fine. He's close to her this way, and he isn't sure what to make of the sex, but he can't deny that he's addicted to it.

It's usually her touching him, quiet, one sided, he sits back and she sets his whole body on fire. Her fingers trace his contours, her mouth on him in ways that makes him explode. At first he thinks that this is all she wants, to play with him, but when she presses herself against him, he can feel how wet she is against his hip, and he knows that she's leaving unfulfilled.

So one day, without her asking, when she's got her hands around her hardness, fondling him with both hands, his hand reaches under her pencil shirt,  between her legs, and rubs. He's so bad at this he's sure, the skirt is constricting and he's flying blind, but when he makes contact with her soaked panties, she gasps, and then gives him a look. It's so full of heat and desire, he knows he made the right move, and she lets go of him and pushes him down on the hard floor.

He continues to rubs awkwardly over the fabric, until he finally gets frustrated and rolls up her skirt past her hips. Rather than replace his fingers though, Kayano quickly rubs against him, groin for groin, and something instinctual flares up. The new friction sends him reeling, it feels so good against her, it begins to pulse between his legs again, something primal.

He knows what's going to happen, even someone as naive as he is in this situation. He's not a complete idiot, he knows what it means when he pulls her panties down her slender legs and she kicks them off, what it means when her hands quickly work his pants off and down the hall.

He should be scared, at least a little, if only because he's worried he'll screw it up somehow, but the anticipation is so thick he can't be. She looks at him, her eyes molten amber, desperate and needy and that alone drives him near the edge.

“Ready?” Her voice was strained from holding back.

He doesn't trust his words so he nods, she takes her hand and guides him in, and she sinks on him, _around him_ , and they both gasp. He's never felt like this, she's hot, wet, and tight, and it feels so _good_ , that saying “good” is almost an insult. The sensation was overwhelming, sliding in, inch by inch, taking his breath away.

She seems too good at this, he wonders if she's done it before, but he doesn't want to ruin this by thinking about it. He's not sure he couldn't think about anything else if he tried; all there is, is this pressure around him, and then with one final inch he is completely in. He blinks, taking it all in, the quiet of the house, the feeling of being in her, the wet heat around him, and it's all so much.  But then she starts to move, and it becomes overwhelming.

She bounces on him, taking complete control, almost completely unsheathing, then dropping down, and Nagisa can barely keep up. Where Nagisa knows he is quiet, he muffles his sounds while quietly concentrating, Kayano is loud, demanding. She makes a different noise everytime she falls back on him, mewling and moaning.

He likes it that way, he's always overthinking, scared he's inept at this whole thing, but he can hear and see that she likes it, that it's as good for her as it is for him, and it encourages him to keep going. He begins to thrust up to meet her movements, his hands gripping her hips.

 _Nagisa, nagisa,_ she chants his name, and it just makes it that much closer. She's wild now, rhythm gone to a mad pace, riding him so hard that he's surprised it doesn't bruise, until and she comes with a loud “Fuck.” She arches her back, grinding desperately, clenching him so tight he almost swears himself until she is spent.

He's confused, he's still hard and wanting.  He simply assumed they would reach climax together, he isn't sure what to do with this scenario, but then she shifts her hips and turns them so now _he's on top._

“Keep going,” she says, eyes lidded, and face flushed with her orgasm. Then whispers, “I want you to break me.”

He shudders, that should sound wrong, somewhere deep inside he always has a fear of hurting the people he loves, but the way she says it, the yearning, and the sultriness of her voice, and his body moves on its own. She wraps her legs around his waist and lets him thrust into her, until her moaning comes back and she thrusts upward herself to match him. The back of her feet dig into back in enthusiasm.

“So, ahhh, good, mm,” she murmurs, and she continues to curse, and for some reason it makes Nagisa even hotter. Her hands make it under his shirt, and she drags her nails against his skin, leaving angry trails.

“Harder. Fuck, Nagisa, harder.”

He's so close, he can feel the crescendo building inside of him, his pace picks up, faster and more frenzied, with no coherent rhythm, and her hips reacts as well, she's even louder with his name. She bites down on his shoulder as she reaches her second climax, and he doesn't mind, too lost in the feeling. He's almost there, and then her insides clamp around him again, milking him for all he is worth, pushing him towards the edge.

“Na-Nagisa!” she cries out as they both reach climax together, and with final push he comes so hard he sees stars in his eyes. He's speechless, lost in the one moment, and he falls over, two mostly clothed people, drenched in sweat and panting.

“Dinner,” she says.

“What?”

“Our dinner is getting cold.” She rolls from under him, her expression controlled, no longer the wild, writhing woman that cursed and scratched at him, demanding more.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Okay.”

He's okay with this. But in the back of him mind he notes she didn't kiss him once, and for the first time, an inkling of disappointment begins to emerge.

 

* * *

 

Kissing, she reasons over the years, would probably tell too much. She fears that exposure, a vulnerability in her armor, a knowledge that once he kisses her, she would be unable to hide the extent of her love, near obsession; that seven years is a long time to be in love, and the love builds exponentially.

She wants more, but she's scared more will cause him to run. She loves being his friend; being the one closest to him, dinners on weekends and texts over the phone. And she loves fucking him, his reserved, quiet pants hidden under her moaning and cursing. She loves the sex and the friendship both, but she can survive with just one of them. And if she were to kiss him, if she were to show him what she really wanted, she might lose both.

If this is farthest they go, then it's a good way to live.

That's why, the day he kisses her, is a day she will never forget.

Right now he has his fingers in her, she's against the wall and he's stroking inside, her panties pushed aside, her skirt riding up and she's so loud even though it's only one finger.

He's so skilled, always has been, he curls his finger and she shudders.

“Nagisa,” she begs, “Nagisa please.”

He's looking at her, and normally that doesn't happen. Nagisa is always a bit shy and he closes his eyes or focuses elsewhere, deep in concentration, but today is odd, today he is greedy. Only on rare days he takes the initiative, she usually dominates him, whispering dirty things she'll do and having him blush and quietly be obedient.

Today he comes to her, today he puts his finger inside without her direction, and she's okay with that.

What she doesn't expect, in between her nonsensical pleading, is his mouth over hers. She's sees the blue of the world in his eyes. His lips are softer than any part of his body, his slim frame deceptively hiding an athletic build, his stomach and his arms and legs are hard but this, his lips, so soft. Her mouth is open and he slips his tongue in and she's already gone.

Seven years of love, loving his eyes, and his smile, and his confidence and his insecurity, the way opens the door first for her, how he gives his seat on the bus to the old woman who just wobbled in, the way he brushes the hair out of her eyes after a night of fucking, the way he holds her hand when she has a flashback to the death that stained her middleschool years.

It all comes out, she squirms in his arms as she pushes forward intensely knocking teeth, it's probably sloppy, not even sexy at all, but it's raw and hard and real.

And just with that she comes so hard her legs shutter and she slides down to the floor because she feels boneless.

She looks at Nagisa's face because he's naive, but he's no fool, and sure enough, he looks as if he has had a revelation. _He knows._ He knows she loves him, because somethings you communicate with your body more than your words, and this changes everything.

Kayano holds her breath, unmoving, waiting to see if Nagisa runs. She might run first if she had the strength too. This wasn't the plan. Everything is so close to being ruined. Did she want too much? Did she take more than she was allowed?

He bends down, eyes to eye, serious and searching. He sees. He says nothing.

And then he kisses her, and she's so relieved she could cry. The kiss deepens and then she becomes aroused again, because he had this effect on her since they were in school kids.

He pushes his hands up her shirt and cups her breasts, his thumb moving in tandem as his tongue moves across the top of her mouth. He's so good at this, but he was taught by the best. And then he lifts the shirt off of her and it leaves her dazed.

Sex with Nagisa was spontaneous, hot, and fast. Rarely did they ever bother to fully unclothe, and Kayano couldn't help but think that this was different. The frenzied nature is gone, the need is there but tempered, this is beyond the fucking they've done over and over again.

This is quiet, and tender, and she could feel it in the way he lifts his hands to her neck and brushes his thumb against her pulse as he continues to kiss her. It is sweet. It is giving as much as it is receiving.

It pushes past the raw lust and desire, and it touches a feeling more deeply embedded in Kayano, the absolute love she has for him, and that makes it petrifying. And it makes her feel alive.

Her fingers go to his shirt and she works with the buttons, slowly making her way down as Nagisa left her lips and trails kisses down her jaw. She tips her head to help Nagisa trail down to her neck, and he shrug off the shirt.

“Not here,” he murmurs, “Not this time, we can't do it on the floor.”

_This one is special._

She nods, “Take me.”

His lips traps hers again, and in one fluid motion lifts her without breaking contact, her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He trails his hands over her legs, and she gets goosepimples where he touches. He finally makes it his way to her bedroom, opens the door, and gently places her on the bed. She looks into his eyes, and his eyes are deep into hers, serious but welcoming.

They kiss again, hot, moving against each other as he moves his arms around her to unlatch her bra and she rips the buckle away from his trousers. They leave each other's presence to strip away the last of their clothing and it feels like every second not touching is a lifetime wasted. They're completely naked now, and she's on her back, hair sprayed, legs open for him. He looks at her like he thinks she's beautiful. He rests inbetween her legs, his length hard and wanting, at her entrance, and his arms on either side of her.

“Kayano,” he says, and the desire pools in her abdomen, he rarely speaks during sex. “I want to touch you.”

“Nagisa,” she breathes, and she's rarely this quiet, she usually screaming or moaning or cursing. “I want you to touch me.”

He enters slowly, keeping eye contact. Her breath hitches, and she wraps her arms around his neck. She feels full when he's entirely in, like they are made this way. The intensity of their movements is replaced with a stronger feeling. They don't start moving right away, they just stay this way, never looking away.

She shifts her hips, just a bit, to get even closer, and it does something to Nagisa that makes him buckle, and he starts to move in her. Maybe it's the feelings, maybe it's the eye contact, but she feels so sensitive, every touch sets her on fire, makes her moan, and Nagisa responds to each sound with more vigor. Her hands tangle in his hair, but not in the rough way they normally claw.

One hand props him up while another goes to her breast, squeezing lightly and the dual sensation has Kayano writhing, and then his hand trails up to her cheek and cups it, and that means just as much to her.

It's late and the room is silent except the sounds of two body slapping together, the creaking of the bed underneath, and Kayano's moans. He shifts his hips and hits a new angle, deeper, causing a loud gasp, and he knows she is almost there. He wants to meet her at the same time. Kayano helps, one hand trails down to fondle him as his thrusts pick up pace, and he shudders at her touch.

“I love you.”

She doesn't know if he says it or her, or it's just a figment of her imagination, but those words burn as they both reach their climax, and it comes with more force, more passion than all of those nights combined. He kisses her as she opens her mouth, swallowing a scream of pleasure, their eyes still locked on to each other. The kiss is even more intense, mirroring the sensation, tongues and pressure, until she rides out the last of it.

He pulls away, both panting, gasping, reveling in what just occurred. Kayano grabs at Nagisa's hand they intertwine, he was still in her and didn't seem to want to leave anytime soon.

 _Where do we go from here?_ She wants to ask. _Do you really feel the same way?_

She doesn't though, but now she also doesn't deflect, and instead wraps her arms around Nagisa's shoulders, holding him close.

Seven years is a long time to be in love. But not so long if you know that you will be in love for the rest of your life.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, I know I'm terrible at smut and yes AssClass is a dead fandom but... there was so little Nagisa/Kayano. It was such a shame, I had to do it. I might make more, because, you know, charity. Always could use more nagikae


End file.
